


The Pillows of a Relationship

by SomeSleepySloth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Which In This Case Is Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29287731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeSleepySloth/pseuds/SomeSleepySloth
Summary: Where in Stiles has to go on a business trip, but finds a way to ensure that Derek doesn't miss him too much
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	The Pillows of a Relationship

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to my mom for the title. I have now successfully outsourced coming up with titles for my fic. Catch me outsourcing the writing as well in the future *insert fingerguns*.

It is a Saturday morning and Derek is sitting on the sofa browsing through the Netflix menu for a show to watch over breakfast later. 

He and Stiles have developed a schedule after one too many fights over which show to watch. His boyfriend veered towards shows like _The Mandalorian,_ while he himself preferred documentaries, or crime shows. Derek isn’t complaining about their heated arguments because they tend to lead to mind-blowing sex. There’s just something about Stiles getting up in his face, looking all flushed, hands gesticulating wildly that gets Derek all worked up. Or maybe it’s just _Stiles_ , Derek is an absolute sucker for his boyfriend, not that he will admit to that. He gets enough ribbing as it is.

But their fights were not very efficient in terms of actually working their way through the shows, hence their new schedule. Which dictates that it is Derek’s turn to choose a show today. He is currently debating between watching _Friends_ reruns, or starting _Mindhunter._ Cora had been raving about that show for a while, which was a rare event for her. But was watching a show about murder the best way to start their day?

Before he can ponder further, the doorbell rings.

Derek flicks a glance at his phone; the screen reads 0945. Odd, he had only put in their breakfast delivery order five minutes ago. That was some wicked fast delivery. Shrugging, he tosses the remote control onto the sofa, and pads over to the door, wallet in hand.

He wrenches it open and finds a delivery man on their doorstep. Except instead of their breakfast, the man has a box. A nondescript brown box that is far too big for him to hold and is sitting on the floor beside the delivery man. Derek blinks in confusion because what the fuck could be in that huge box. 

“Good morning Sir,” the young man chirps brightly. He glances back down at his clipboard and his eyes bug out slightly at the name on the delivery chit, “I uhh, I have a parcel for, uhh…Mr Sty, uh…Mr Ste,...”. 

Taking pity on the delivery man who looks barely over twenty and because listening to him butcher Stiles’ surname was getting slightly painful, Derek interrupts him, “Is it for Stiles Stilinski?”

The young man visibly sags in relief, “Yes yes, that, uh are you him?”

“No, but I can sign for the parcel,” Derek replies. He scrawls his initials on the chit and hands it back to the delivery man who leaves with a cherry greeting, leaving Derek standing on his doorstep with a box. A rather big box. 

If it weren’t for the fact that he knows at this very precise moment Stiles is currently showering, he would suspect his boyfriend of hiding in the box. Because it looks big enough to fit a human. And is also actually large enough to fit a human. A Stiles-sized human.

Derek had learnt that from personal experience when Stiles had the brilliant idea to hide himself in a gift box to surprise his boyfriend on their anniversary a year ago. Except that a last minute work emergency and Derek calling in a favour from their friends to deliver some curly fries from Stiles’ favourite diner meant that Scott was the one greeted by the sight of Stiles with a bow around his neck instead. _Only a bow_ , as a traumatised Scott had made sure to emphasise later when telling Derek about his woes. It had been an embarrassing incident for all parties involved and it took a week before Scott could look his best friend in the eyes.

But now that he has effectively ruled out the possibility of Stiles hiding in the box, short of him learning teleportation within the past ten minutes, Derek has no idea what on earth his boyfriend has ordered that warrants such a large box. With the wariness of a man approaching a grenade, he carefully lifts the box and nearly falls over backwards instantly. He had put some strength into lifting the box, expecting it to be hefty, given its size. Only for it to turn out to be as light as a pillow. Stumbling backwards slightly, Derek adjusts his grip and moves the box into their living room.

He picks up his remote control to return to his show-choosing, but can’t help glancing at the box every few seconds, his curiosity eating at him. What on earth could be in that bloody box. There are no holes punched into the box, which indicates that it is likely an inanimate object. But _which_ inanimate object?

Turning his attention back to the screen, he forces himself to choose an episode of _Friends_ to rewatch. Stiles will be coming out of the shower soon and he can find out then. 

“Oh hey! It finally came!” 

Derek has chosen an episode and is calmly replying to a text from Laura when Stiles’ shout nearly sends him tumbling to the ground in shock. He turns around to see his boyfriend clad in a loose fitting pair of pyjama pants and a Beacon Hills High School Basketball Team shirt, evidently having raided Derek’s side of the closet. His towel is hanging loosely around his neck, his wet hair sticking up in wild tufts. And he is currently trying to remove the tape keeping the box closed.

Sighing, Derek gets up and retrieves the towel from Stiles’ neck. “Come on, at least get your hair dry first,” he grunts as he pulls his boyfriend upright. Stiles duly obliges, allowing Derek to rub at the water-logged strands. “I thought my parcel got lost,” the younger man says, hands already inching back towards the box, “I’ve been waiting for it _forever_.”

“What did you order?” Derek asks. Finally satisfied with the dryness of Stiles’ hair, he works his fingers through the messy strands, combing it neatly and scratching the back of the scalp just the way his boyfriend likes it. Derek most certainly doesn’t preen when Stiles leans up to press a soft kiss against his stubbled cheek before nuzzling into the crook of his neck. 

“Stiles, what did you order?” he repeats when Stiles starts nibbling at his collarbone. God, he was fucking insatiable, but Derek would not be deterred.

Wiggling out of the older man’s arms, Stiles returns to his task of removing the tape. “You’ll see soon enough,” he teases with a smug grin on his face, “I think you will like it.”

“Really.” 

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Stiles quips, “and put those frowny murder brows away.”

“I do not have murder brows,” Derek says, “also, you aren’t even looking at me. How would you know what my brows are like?”

Stiles laughs, a quick bark of laughter. “I know you Der-Bear, you always have the murder brows on.”

“I regret letting you meet Laura,” Derek grumbles under his breath.

“Lies, we have brought so much joy into your - AHA! Finally got you, you daft bugger!” Stiles crows in glee when he has finally removed all the adhesive tape stuck to the box. 

Derek approaches the box warily. Knowing Stiles’ sense of humour, it could be anything from a giant Jack-In-The-Box to a new Mandalorian bust. Derek had put his foot down on the latter, because his boyfriend wanted to put it in their bedroom. And well, no, just _no._

Stiles lifts the box flaps up and Derek peers in to find a… _huh_. He actually has no idea what he is looking at. It is a long object with a picture of his boyfriend on it. Reaching out with a finger, he cautiously pokes at it, and is pleasantly surprised when his finger sinks right through the soft surface.

“It’s a _Dakimakura_ ,” his boyfriend declares as his long arms reach into the box to pull the item out, “otherwise known as a body pillow!”

Derek has to concede it is rather aptly named because the pillow is indeed the length of Stiles’ body. And printed on top of the pillow is Stiles himself. 

At least the picture Stiles has chosen is one of him clad in his usual t-shirt and pyjama pants combination. With a bright grin on his printed face. Because Derek wouldn’t put it past him to have a nude picture on a fucking pillow. There’s nothing wrong with Stiles’ body, Derek loves it a lot, and has shown his appreciation in numerous ways. But he doesn’t need it _on a pillow_. Small mercies indeed.

And on that note. “Why did you buy a body pillow?” Derek asks. He hasn’t had his breakfast, or his morning coffee, he is definitely not awake enough to deal with another of Stiles’ shenanigans. 

“It’s for you!” Stiles pronounces, thrusting the pillow out at Derek, who has no choice but to accept it, although he makes sure to hold it at a distance away from him. It is rather odd to have a pillow with Stiles on top of it. 

“For me?” Derek sputters in indignation, “what the fuck do I need this for?”

“When I go on my business trip.”

Derek cocks his head in consideration and tries to find the link between Stiles’ acquisition of a body pillow and his business trip. His boyfriend worked remotely as a writer for a national magazine. While he could do most of his work from the comfort of their house, he did have to make the occasional trip into the office, which was located in a different state. He has an upcoming trip in a week’s time, but Derek still doesn’t see the connection between both events.

“What does your business trip have to do with this pillow?” He waves the pillow in Stiles’ direction again. As if trying to shake some sense into his boyfriend through his body pillow.

“It’s for you to cuddle at night.”

“I don’t —” 

“Don’t even bother fronting Der-bear, you love cuddling me a lot. I have first hand experience of that,” Stiles smirks triumphantly, and for the fifth time this morning, Derek wonders why he is dating an idiot. Not that Stiles is really an idiot, he is one of the smartest people Derek has ever met, it’s just, sometimes, Derek is certain that his boyfriend lives to exasperate him. 

Stiles rambles on, ignoring Derek’s inner monologuing. “And you give the best cuddles actually. It is rather nice to wake up in your arms, although sometimes it is hard to extricate myself, especially when I need to use the bathroom in the morning. You make the cutest noise when I leave, I think you even pouted last weekend when I had to leave early to help Dad with something at his house. So me being the very helpful boyfriend, I have gotten you a pillow to sleep with while I’m away. Because I know —” 

“Stiles,” Derek cuts in and waves the offending object, “I don’t need a body pillow. I can sleep perfectly well on my own.”

“Hey! This isn’t just a body pillow, this is a Dakimakura, and it is a special one, it has my face on it! Look at it, isn’t it brilliant? You know what, I should get one of these for my dad. What with his empty nest syndrome and all.”

Derek barely suppresses his shudder at that thought. “No, I am certain the Sheriff _doesn’t_ need a daki-”

“Dakimakura,” Stiles fills in helpfully.

“Yes, that, Dakimakura. He doesn’t need that.” The Sheriff better be grateful for how Derek is saving him from a potentially terrible plight. Although, will it be that terrible if the Sheriff got one too? They can suffer together. Isn’t there the saying, misery loves company? 

“Dad loves me, I’m certain he would appreciate such an awesome gift too,” Stiles replies confidently.

“No, just, whatever you do, no,” Derek massages his temple wearily, and glances at the pillow again, “Stiles, what am I supposed to do with this pillow?”

“Cuddle it,” comes his cheeky retort. “It doesn’t cuddle back, because it doesn’t have arms sadly. You know what, they _should_ come with arms. Someone ought to look into that. Having arms would be nice, although perhaps not legs. Just the arms so they can hug you back.”

For the second time that morning, the doorbell rings, interrupting Stiles’ plan for adding more appendages to pillows.

“Breakfast! Yes!” Stiles lets out a whoop of joy and races to open the door for the delivery man. Derek tosses the pillow back into the box and stuffs it in the corner of the living room before going to join Stiles. He is definitely not touching this creepy looking pillow with a ten foot pole. 

His boyfriend already has half a hash brown sticking out of his mouth by the time Derek makes his way towards the dining table. 

The squabble over the body pillow, or dakimakura as Stiles insists on calling it, is forgotten in place of Derek chirping Stiles over his terrible table manners and trying to snag an extra hash brown.

~~ 

A fortnight later, when Stiles returns home a day early from his business trip to surprise his boyfriend, he finds Derek taking an afternoon nap before his night shift later that day, with his arms wrapped tightly around the pillow that Stiles had ordered for him.

He is gracious enough to not tease Derek about it when he burrows into the other man’s arms, displacing the body pillow.

But he is not above taking a few pictures. For posterity, because Derek does look adorable. 

And perhaps also for blackmail. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you have a nice day 💙
> 
> ~~ 
> 
> And a coda:
> 
> Derek leaves the pillow lying about the house when Stiles is away because he cuddles with it when he’s watching shows on the television, not that he will ever admit it. Scott comes to check up on him on his best friend’s orders and also because he is Derek’s friend, much as they both deny it. 
> 
> Before Derek can stop him, Scott picks up the pillow and accidentally turns it over only to be greeted by the sight of Stiles' bum. Because the pillow is business in the front, and party in the back. He throws it across the room immediately with a loud cry of “NOT AGAINNNNNNN."


End file.
